Из альбома: Parables for Wooden Ears
It's a early rise
His teeth are furred
And cleanse with hands to hunt and hold
The sun divides
Imagined leaves
A shelter while I sleep
There are many years
To cloud my mind
But no burden
It's heavy like a tipping load
Early day
On a bloodied patch
Only noise and brick surround
Tradition sinks
In the soil here
As a rock is swallowed in the mud
The polluted skin
Of my brittle earth
It keeps the bleeding at bay
This syrup sweet and thick to exchange me
My spirit has rearranged
Crippled, dampened, lame
As it goes
The syrup fills my eyes
The days faces fade to black
And I don't feel
And I can't fight
For my home anymore
Anymore
And I return to an open land
Where bloods blanket shielded me
This syrup sweet and thick to exchange me
My spirit has rearranged
Crippled, dampened, lame